Like You'll Never See Me Again
by theweightofmywords
Summary: "Every time you hold me, hold me like it is the last time..." Inspired by the Alicia Keys song of the same name. A short series of one-shots about Ron and Hermione's love. Not 100% canon, but I'd like to think that maybe it could've happened this way.
1. Chapter 1: Grimmauld Place

_DISCLAIMER: I'm not J.K. Rowling and I do not own these characters. I am just a humble fan. _

The first time was at Grimmauld Place. Neither of them could sleep, fear refusing to release its grip on their minds, their bodies restless with anxiety. Harry had been isolating himself, and they felt so scared and lost. The only things of which they were certain were their commitment to Harry, and that that nothing else was certain.

Except for their feelings for each other. Yet, that remained unspoken still.

There were glances over the dinner table at the Burrow, when no one else was looking. Ron's hand would brush against Hermione's as they busied themselves with chores in preparation for the wedding. "Clumsy Ron," thought Hermione, in a dual effort to protect and comfort her heart. Hermione would lean into Ron when sitting on the couch, but only slightly, leaving him wondering, wondering, wondering...

He had heard her crying, walking back to his room after brushing his teeth. He hesitated for a moment, his hand ready to knock, still unsure if she wanted him, or if she preferred to be alone, or if she wanted Harry to be the one to knock. But his mind remembered the way she looked at him as they danced at his brother's wedding, how her hand rested in his as she fell asleep their first night at Grimmauld Place, and he knocked softly. "Hermione?" he asked, quietly.

"Come in," she replied, her voice sounding more composed.

When he entered the room, she was sitting on the bed, a pillow clutched to her body, her hands wringing in worry. Their eyes locked, and while she may have held it together seconds before, she lost her composure and began to weep. Ron's arms instantly were around her, all hesitation and doubt banished when he saw her cry. He kissed the top of her head, her shoulders shaking and tears soaking his shirt.

She cried for her parents. At one point, she heard herself blubbering, "I want my mummy." She cried out of stress, the magnitude of their undertaking crashing over her like a tidal wave.

Ron knew better than to say that it was okay, because, though he thought himself to be an idiot at times, he was smart enough to know that nothing about what was happening was okay. He held her until she stopped.

"I'm sorry," she said, clearing her throat and sitting up. She brushed her hair out of her face and wiped her eyes. "I don't know what came over me," she added, looking down at her hands as she began to wring them again. Ron grabbed a hold of them. They were sitting next to each other, their backs against the headboard.

"There's nothing to apologize for, Hermione," Ron stated, shrugging, "You know I'm here for you." Hermione looked up at him, as if she was holding her breath. After a short while, she exhaled slowly. She felt so helpless at times, faced with what lie ahead. This was the only thing she could think of that wasn't chaos.

Her hands still in his and with an air of resignation, she said quietly, "We could die tomorrow."

"Don't say that," Ron said sharply. "I don't want to think of you-"

"But it's true, Ron. It could happen. I knew that it could, and that's partially why I altered my parents' memories. Who knows what will happen at the ministry? Or after that?"

Ron knew she was right. His own death, he could accept. Harry's death? The thought of it hurt, but he had known it was a possibility for years now. But Hermione's death? He'd rather die than know a moment without her.

He looked up at her then, their eyes locking. He didn't realize that his eyes were filled with tears until then. Shaking his head, he mumbled, "I would never... I promise... I won't let...". Hermione reached her arm around him, his head dipping below his shoulders in fear.

"Hey," she said softly.

As he looked up, she found herself moving closer yet to him. She had always been logical and reasonable. Good girl Hermione. Smart Hermione. Plan-ahead Hermione. Though she had not planned this, she knew deep down that when it came to Ron, caution would fly to the wind, if he so willed it. "We could die tomorrow..." her mind echoed.

And their lips met.

Slowly and filled with questions, at first, and it was as if they were taking turns kissing each other. First she kissed. Then he kissed back. Then she replied. Then he answered.

Then they opened their eyes, their lips still brushed against each other's.

"Hermi-"

"Ron-"

And then it was fire.

Urgently, brazenly, each one's kisses interrupted by the other's, their hands leaving each other's, their owners finally granting them permission to touch. Years of yearning and dreaming. Their hands roamed free.

Ron found himself grasping at the edge of Hermione's shirt before his mind caught up with his body. When he paused, he realized Hermione's hands were underneath his shirt.

"Wait!" he said, his voice thick and conflicted.

Hermione lay underneath him as she tried to catch her breath. Her mind raced, as thoughts of what could happen whirred past thoughts of doubt. "You foolish girl, throwing yourself at him like that," she thought to herself.

Bravery had trumped her fear, and, with a hint of pleading in her voice, she blurted, "I want this."

Ron couldn't believe it, and speechless, he felt his mouth move but words had failed to come out.

"Please, Ron. I don't want any regrets. If anything hap-"

Not wanting to think of that possibility, Ron began to kiss her again. He knew she was right, as she usually was. In that moment, he wanted to make her happy. He wanted to feel that happiness for himself, the kind that he knew she brought him.

It happened suddenly but slowly, like in a dream. One moment they were separate, and the next, they were one.

She inhaled sharply, gripping his back tightly.

"I'm sorry, am I-" Ron asked, strain in his voice.

"I'm okay... Keep going," Hermione responded.

Their movements, like their initial kisses moments before, were awkward and clumsy. Ron's arms were shaking, and he had fixed his gaze on a spot on the bed post. Focused, as if he was playing Keeper.

Hermione moved her hand to his face, and like awakening from a trance, he looked at her. Reaching her head up, she kissed him softly, their eyes fluttering shut.

Their movements became more graceful as their bodies became slick. Still feeling like he was in a dream, Ron was vaguely aware of his own heavy breathing and the occasional grunt. He heard Hermione's short breaths and quiet moans. "I can't believe it," they both were thinking, unknowingly, to themselves.

Hermione tensely gripped his back, feeling his muscles move underneath her fingers. Just like she had come to love him, she felt her body opening to him and adjusting, slowly catching up to the happiness her heart felt.

And Ron's movements sped up, and he felt like he was soaring and exploding, falling eventually into Hermione's arms. She wrapped them around him, wishing she could hold him like that forever, saying a silent prayer that one day she could.

And now, here they were, lying on their sides, in an old bed in an abandoned bedroom at Grimmauld Place, allowing themselves to be silent and just stare at each other, taking in what had just transpired between them.

"Are you okay?" he asked. He realized that he had not paid much attention to her, and he felt shame well up inside. "Next time, I'll make it up to her. That's if there is a next time," he thought to himself.

"I'm grand," she replied, a smile dancing across her face. She turned her head to nuzzle his arm, which her head was resting on. Ron brushed Hermione's hair out of her face, her eyes closing involuntarily. A tear slipped out of her eye, and Ron moved closer to kiss it away.

"I love you," he found himself whispering, feeling the burden of his years-long secret lifted and replaced with the fear of not being echoed back. He kept his eyes closed as their noses nuzzled, wanting to savor the moment before it ended forever.

"Ron," Hermione breathed, and Ron felt his heart shattering to bits and his anger towards himself flaring. "Stupid, daft, fool," he cursed in his mind. His arms tensed up as he squeezed his eyes shut.

"I love you too," she then murmured.

Ron opened his eyes to find himself staring into hers. Blue met brown, and anger met love, and his body relaxing, he began to laugh, joy taking over his body, and nothing, not the dingy bed they were in, not the danger his family and all he loved and knew was in, not the impossible task they were about to confront, nothing at all mattered to him at that moment, except Hermione.

_Thanks for reading! Please review- any kind and/or constructive feedback would be helpful and inspiring! I'm working on the 2nd part now, and knowing that people are reading it is like fuel for my fire. I don't have a beta, so if you'd like to help out, PM me :)_


	2. Chapter 2: Shell Cottage

_Thank you so much for the reviews and follows! As a first-time Romione author, I appreciate it! Here's chapter two. _

_DISCLAIMER: I do not own these characters. _

The second time was at Shell Cottage. They had been carefully planning their next moves, simultaneously taking a much-needed reprieve from living on moss and mushrooms in the woods. Maybe it was the ocean breeze or being sheltered from the elements, but it gave them a place to breathe and recover before moving onto their next step.

After that night in Grimmauld Place, they hardly had any chances to act on the new development in their relationship. They were camping out in the woods, at some points facing starvation. Harry's constant presence and the increasing threat of danger from Voldemort and his death eaters pushed any thought other than survival to the back burner. There were still the occasional glances and flirty exchanges, and once in awhile, they allowed themselves to kiss briefly. That all stopped when the locket began to take its hold, and Ron had left. And when he returned, Hermione's feelings of elation battled with her feelings of resentment and heartache, and she often found herself tongue-tied and frozen around him.

Hermione spotted Ron standing on the beach one late and unseasonably warm afternoon as the sun was setting. They had been spending nearly every waking moment planning their break-in to Gringotts, and the three of them had agreed to take a much-needed break for the afternoon. Ron was staring at the waves, a content look on his face. There were not many chances to be alone with him in the cottage, and there was so much she wanted to say to him.

"Can I join you?" she asked, pulling her cardigan tighter around her.

"Yeah, of course," he replied, grinning at her.

The light from the setting sun caught in his hair and eyelashes, and Hermione couldn't help but stare at him from the corner of her eye. Her hands ached to touch him, and she found herself turning her head to see him better. They began to walk along the shoreline.

"How are you feeling?" Ron asked, looking over. She snapped her head forward in a poor attempt to be casual.

"Better each day. It's a nice afternoon for a walk," she replied, knowing that if she was with anyone else, it would be not be the same.

Ron remembered her state when they first arrived at the cottage, her bloody and weakened body in his arms. He looked at her now, the warm glow from the sunset on her face. She looked like an angel, and he felt himself yearning to kiss her.

"You're looking better each day," he remarked, fighting down his urges. He felt lucky that she was alive, let alone talking to him. He didn't want to push his luck.

Hermione was grateful the sunset gave everything a rosy hue, as she felt herself begin to blush under his gaze. "Thanks, Ron," she mumbled softly, as she bent down to pick up a seashell. Ron followed suit, picking up a large pearly shell. He offered it to her. "For you," he said, a nervous smile on his face.

"Thank you," she replied, hoping that he understood that she was thanking him for more than the shell. They continued to walk in a comfortable silence, and Hermione let her mind wander. She imagined what it would be like if they were not at war. She let herself pretend they were on a date together, just two teenagers going for a romantic walk. She imagined that maybe Ron would pull her closer as it got darker. A silent smile spread across her face with that thought, and looking over at him, she became filled with emotion. They had come so close to dying, and here they were, walking along the beach, the waves washing over their feet, with a sunset more beautiful than she had seen in ages. They were alive.

At that moment, Fleur called out to them from the front door of the cottage, telling them to come to dinner.

"Thanks for the walk," she said, clutching the shells they had picked up.

"Maybe we can go on another one tomorrow, yeah?" Ron offered, his confidence building.

"I'd like that a lot," Hermione replied, smiling shyly at him as they walked back together to the house to join the others.

Dinner was permeated with a sense of joy and lightheartedness. It was as if everyone was tired of the heaviness of war and had given themselves permission to think of other things for the night.

After dinner, the girls had gone up to their rooms. Hermione sat on the bed by the window, opposite Luna's by the door. "It's a lovely night, isn't it? I think I might fancy a walk. Perhaps I'll see what Dean or Harry are up to," Luna sighed.

"Alright, Luna. Have a nice time," Hermione replied.

"Do you want me to send Ron in?" she asked, a glimmer in her eyes.

"What? Why would you-" she questioned, before Luna added, "I think I might even like to camp outside tonight, see the stars..." Luna walked out, her dreamy voice trailing off.

Hermione sat, smiling puzzledly at her free-spirited friend. At that moment, she heard someone clear their throat in the hallway. She opened the door to come face to face with Ron, who looked like he was beginning to walk away.

"Oh, hello!" he said a bit too brightly, "I didn't know you were still awake!"

"I was just settling in for the night," Hermione responded, still standing in the doorway.

"Right, right. Uh, okay, well then, I just wanted to say good night," Ron chuckled, nervously.

"Do you want to come in?" she asked, looking back into the room.

Ron swallowed. "Uh, yeah, yeah, sure."

Hermione sat on the edge of her bed, expecting Ron to take a seat on Luna's bed. Her heart leapt when he sat next to her. She wanted to berate herself for how nervous she felt around him. "It's as if that night didn't happen," she thought to herself in annoyance. She felt that familiar sense of longing, and she knew she had to be brave and send her thoughts out into the open.

"I was so angry at you," she began. She realized that she was nearly whispering, as she looked down at her hands.

"I'm sorry, Hermione, I-" Ron began to say.

"Please. I need to tell you. I need you to know," she asserted as she looked at him, her voice stronger. Ron's mouth closed, and he nodded as he listened patiently.

"I was so angry at you," she continued. "How could you love me, then leave? I thought, maybe you didn't really love me, that I wasn't enough. I thought maybe I wasn't worth it anymore. Maybe that night was... just one night."

Ron couldn't believe his ears. How could she think such things? About herself? About him? He realized they were more alike in their doubts and fears than he had thought.

"But then, at Malfoy's, I heard you," she spoke, "I heard you screaming, and I knew how wrong I was. How could I have doubted you?"

She took his hands in hers. The hairs on Ron's arms stood up, and it felt so good to feel her again.

"If it was you in there, I would have done the same," Hermione said quietly, looking Ron in the eyes.

Ron found him shaking his head slowly. "I wouldn't have let you, you know," he replied, earnestly.

"Isn't it wonderful that you didn't have to though?" she asked.

He wasn't following. She was just tortured, almost to the point of no return. A minute more, and who knows what would have happened?

"What are you saying?" he asked.

"It kind of makes it seem... small. All that anger I was holding, all that hurt. When we're alive. We're here, together, and we're alive, Ron!" Hermione exclaimed, a smile spreading across her face.

Ron looked at her then, her thin body, bruised and scarred, and her eyes, sparkling in awe of her realization. She had never looked more beautiful to him.

"Yes. We are," he stated. He leaned in closer to her, his mouth descending on hers.

"I love you, Ron, I love you so much," she murmured between kisses, as they laid down next to each other.

"I love you too, Hermione," he responded, his heart beating quickly as if it was leaping for joy.

Ron felt his erection growing, and right when he was about to move away, Hermione pulled him on top of her. He looked in her eyes, a questioning look on his face. She nodded, her hands running up and down his sides.

He kissed her face, her lips, her neck, inhaling the scent of her hair deeply and moaning in pleasure. He had known he had missed her, but it was as if he hadn't realized the full extent of his need for her until then. He began to move down her neck, tenderly placing a trail of kisses along her scar. Hermione took a sharp intake of air, and he looked up at her. "You're beautiful, Hermione," he said softly, as if reading her mind.

Ron began to push Hermione's shirt up, revealing her stomach and bra. She sat up and allowed him to slip it off over her head. She unhooked her bra, and held it in front of her torso. She kissed him softly, and let it fall to the side. He caressed the scars on her arm from where shards of chandelier glass had hit her. He brushed his thumb lovingly over the word that Bellatrix Lestrange hatefully carved into her arm. The scar was a part of her, and he knew that he loved all of her, no matter what. He looked up at Hermione's face to see a tear escape her eye. "It's okay," she nodded. He pressed his lips to the scar, aware of how much he really did love the muggle-born witch, hoping that she felt it in each kiss he gave her. He remembered the vow he made at Grimmauld Place, to love her more attentively if he was ever granted the opportunity. He kissed her breasts, sucking softly on each one as he caressed the other. He felt her arching her back into him as her breathing became louder. Her hand reached down between them and began to stroke him over his trousers. Ron groaned in pleasure. Hermione giggled, still becoming accustomed to her ability to make him feel that way. She began to undo his belt and buttons, struggling clumsily. Smiling bashfully, Ron undressed himself. Hermione took the moment to use Ron's deluminator to turn off the lights and took off the rest of her clothes. Shivering from a combination of nerves and cold, they slipped under the blanket.

"Ron, do you know the spell?" Hermione asked.

At that moment, Ron thanked the twins for their incessant teasing. He had finally admitted to them during 5th year that he was in love with Hermione, and partly as a joke, they had taught him the contraceptive spell. "If you ever get the bollocks to ask out your precious Miss Granger, you'll be thanking us!" they had said. Looking at his precious Miss Granger, he nodded. They hadn't been careful the first time, and the worry had nearly driven them sick. Taking his wand, he quickly recited the spell.

He began journeying down Hermione's torso, her chest rising and falling with each breath. He reached her center, his eyes glazing over with desire. He began to move his tongue over her opening, finding her sensitive spot. She clutched his hair in her fists, whispering, "Oh, God, Ron." He slid his index finger in and out of her. Using her reactions as a guide, he continued, reveling in how she had opened herself to began to buck her hips against his face, her breathing becoming more ragged. She bit down on the pillow, as her legs began to shake. Her hips and back arched, she let out a cry, and then her body became loose, her limbs flopping onto the bed. Ron looked up at her in amazement. He had never felt so aroused in his life. She was still breathing heavily, and, staring at him with a woozy gaze, she whispered, "Come here."

He slid back up towards her, and she pulled his head down to kiss him more passionately than before. She reached for his erection, stroking it enthusiastically as she guided him towards her center. With her legs wrapped around him, Ron entered her. Hermione moaned and began to move her hips against his.

It was not the awkward and choppy kind of movement like their first time. Their bodies seemed to instinctively move together, their eyes locked in an intimate gaze. Ron moved Hermione's ankles to his shoulders, his torso upright. He began brushing his thumb against her clitoris, wanting to take her there with him. She began to whimper. "Oh, fuck, Ron," she groaned, her breaths becoming uneven. Emboldened by the rare curse word leaving her mouth, Ron began to move in and out of her at a feverish pace. Feeling himself tightening, he thrust himself into her forcefully as he grabbed hold of her bottom. Hermione's legs began to shake against him, and he felt her walls tighten around him, rippling in waves. He felt that sense of falling and exploding, calling out to Hermione, feeling her hands on his back, her lips grazing his, his voice praying as if a chant, "I love you, I love you..."

They fell asleep in each others' arms. Ron awoke to the glare of the sunlight in his eyes. Blinking his eyes open, Hermione's sleeping form was the first thing he saw. Pulling her closer, he wrapped his arms around her as he felt her smaller body fit into the contours of his own. He kissed her on the head and thanked the gods for their lives and for giving them another chance.

Thanks for reading! Pls. review if you have the chance! :) Part 3 coming soon.


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